


but the line dividing

by Marked_by_moonlight



Series: drop your hate (and sing for love) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Artificial Insemination, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Hermione Granger, BAMF Hermione Granger, Blankets, Books, Chance Meetings, Courting Rituals, Courtship, Death Eaters, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Familiars, Forced Marriage, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hermione Granger-centric, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, It's not important to the plot, Letters, Love Letters, Male-Female Friendship, Meet-Cute, Meeting the Parents, Mild Blood, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Not Beta Read, Older Man/Younger Woman, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Pregnancy, Pride and Prejudice References, Prison, Protective Parents, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Ravenclaw, Redeemed Antonin Dolohov, Sad Hermione Granger, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, The Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter) is Terrible, Trans Luna Lovegood, Trans Neville Longbottom, Vomiting, but its important that you know, meltdowns, weighted blankets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26603779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marked_by_moonlight/pseuds/Marked_by_moonlight
Summary: The Ministry of Magic passes a marriage law to facilitate the repopulation of Britain.Hermione Granger gets paired with ex-Death Eater Antonin Dolohov.No one is happy about it.
Relationships: Antonin Dolohov/Hermione Granger, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Daphne Greengrass/Percy Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Millicent Bulstrode/Daphne Greengrass, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter, Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Series: drop your hate (and sing for love) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935319
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	1. Fired

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, J.K. Rowling does. Please don't sue me
> 
> "If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?" - Aleksanr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything, J.K. Rowling owns everything.

She can not help but stare in disbelief at her supervisor.

“I’m fired?” She exclaimed.

“Yes, Miss Granger. You know how it is, we cannot have someone working in this department with such radical viewpoints. There were several reports filed by your coworkers stating that you were harassing them because they held viewpoints that did not align with yours.”

She makes a noise of strangled irritation, her magic frizzing out around her, static electricity buzzing in the air, the scent of ozone filling the small office.

“Of course, Ma’am. I understand completely how my own viewpoints may not be wanted. I will go pack my things.”

Her supervisor waves her away with a dismissive hand, and Hermione shuts the frosted glass door just a little too hard on her way out. She knows a scowl covers her face, and her brows are drawn together with that same fierce determination she had used during the war. It makes her civilian ex-coworkers practically leap out of her way as she walks to her desk.

She tranfigures a cardboard box and levitates all of the items littering her desk into it, uncaring. She’ll sort them out later, when she isn’t filled with rage about the injustice of it all. Hermione picks up the box and makes the long trip up to Harry’s office. They’d given him a tiny office that may as well have been a broom cupboard- hell, maybe it had been.

Huffing, she steps into the lift and flicks her wand to go to floor seven, and hopes that her best friend isn’t busy. She needs to get this off her chest, otherwise it feels like she’ll explode.

The small bell over the door chimes, and she steps out onto the pristine marbled hallways of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She takes two steps forward, and crashes into a tall, lithe man. The components of her desk go flying across the hallway, and she tilts backwards, but before she can land on her arse, strong hands catch her.

The dark edge of her scar is visible between the edge of her blouse and the waistband of her slacks, and it makes the stranger go stiff. He sets her on her feet and releases her as though she’s made of fire, his eyes firmly affixed to the floor.

His voice is a deep rumble as he speaks, “I’m sorry, _daragaya_. I must go. Have a good day.”

His eyes flicker up from the floor to catch hers, and she sucks in a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding. Antonin Dolohov slips past her into the lift, leaving behind only the scent of pine aftershave. She stares until the door to the lift closes, and then picks her wand up from its place on the floor to repack all of her belongings.

Levitating the box after her, she stomps into Harry’s tiny shoebox of an office. Her cardboard box hits the ground with a slam, and she flings the door shut behind her.

“Harry, what the hell is Dolohov doing out of prison?” she whispers viciously.

Her best friend’s green eyes flicker to hers from the paperwork, and he grimaces.

“He got released for good behavior last week. He has to check in with me at least once a week and isn’t allowed a wand. He’s also on house arrest and has to wear a tracking band when he meets with me.”

“Harry! He’s a convicted murderer! Why the bloody hell would they think it’s okay to release him for good behavior?”

Harry grimaces again, and stands up from the chair. He runs a hand through his perpetually messy hair, and sighs.

“There’s been a new law proposed. There’s nothing that Kingsley can do, it’s already passed but they aren’t telling the public yet. It’ll be in the Prophet next week. A bloody marriage law, ‘Mione. Those of us that aren’t married will be matched with other eligible people and expected to marry in order to repopulate magical Britain.”

Her hand is pressed against her mouth, and she’s shaking like a leaf. Her first thought is ‘they can’t do that’, but then again, when has the Wizengamot ever asked permission for anything they do?

“I just hope that I don’t get paired with Malfoy. That would be a complete nightmare.”

Harry gives her a grin, and laughs at the thought.

“I couldn’t even imagine, Hermione. You being paired with Malfoy would happen when hell freezes over.”

The tension eases, and the reason she came to Harry’s office shoved aside for now, Hermione Granger enjoys the calm before the storm.


	2. Courtship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prophet article arrives, and Hermione gets a letter from Antonin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any characters, J.K. Rowling does. Don't sue me.

They are in the middle of breakfast when the paper arrives, the headline proclaiming the passage of the marriage law. 

_Wizengamot Passes Marriage Law!_

_By Rita Skeeter_

_Last Tuesday, the Wizengamot passed Bill 5872, otherwise known as the Marriage Law. Bill 5872 decrees that anyone unmarried between the ages of eighteen and forty five will be matched together by the Ministry’s panel of experts (the only publicly known member is Lord Lucius Malfoy), and then will be given a period of two years to try for children. If anyone refuses to abide by the law, their wands will be snapped and they will be thrown in Azkaban for a period of six months, after being found guilty._

_To see Lucius Malfoy’s interview, turn to page 8. To see information on the Wizengamot vote, turn to page 6. To see the Wizengamot session highlights, turn to page 74._

  
  


Before anyone can say anything more than shouted exclamations of shock, the largest bird she’s ever seen flies through the window after the post owl. A parcel is attached to it’s left foot. The birds beak and talons are covered in fresh blood, as though she stopped to catch a rabbit on her flight here. 

“Hello, pretty girl. What have you got for me then?” Hermione coos.

Untying the twine bow, Hermione looks over her gifts. There is an ornate cedar box carved to show a floating river otter on the lid, a once pristine white rose that has been spattered with blood, and a letter sealed with dark blue wax, stamped with a snarling wolf’s head. 

Drawing her wand, she casts the detection charms over the whole lot, and comes up clean. Whoever sent her these, they certainly do not want to harm her. Gently opening the letter, she feeds the eagle a bit of bacon. 

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope you’ll forgive me my presumptiveness, but I wanted to do this properly. Lucius has informed me that the esteemed Ministry of Magic has decided in its infinite wisdom that we are to be matched together for marriage. I assure you that I have no intentions of going back to Azkaban, so consider this letter to be a formal statement of my intentions to court you._

_Inside the box you will find a blown glass fountain pen, which has a bronze nib, and an unbreakable bottle of dark blue ink. The pen itself is charmed to be self inking, just tap your wand on the pen and the ink bottle you wish to use._

_Quills are typically the more traditional way of declaring one's courtship, but I am well aware of how you chafe under the yolk of pureblood tradition. So I hope the fountain pen is to your satisfaction._

_Nadya awaits your reply if you wish to give one. I am sorry that you must be bound to me, you deserve someone who is not nearly as dark as I, daragaya._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Antonin Fyodor Dolohov_

Swallowing down the bile in her throat, she looks to the golden eagle perched on the back of her kitchen chair and lets out a shaky breath.

“Hello, Nadya. You are a very beautiful bird. At least I’ll have you and Crookshanks for company while I’m married to your master. Hopefully once all of this blows over, we can get a divorce.”

Her attention is pulled away from the bird to see a red faced Mr. Weasley. 

“Hermione, dear, Wizarding couples get married for life. Your magic will be bound to your spouses in a contract that is only breakable should one of you die.”

Her hands shake as she holds the letter, and the bile returns to splatter across the kitchen tile. Sweeping her hair aside, she regards the Weasleys through tear filled eyes. 

“It’ll be permanent? I’ll- I’ll be… Oh gods.” 

Tilting forward, Hermione heaves and sobs until there is nothing in her stomach but bitter bile. Her body is sagged against the ancient table leg, with Nadya perched on her right shoulder, preening bits of her hair. 

“Who is it, Hermione?” 

“Who’d the Ministry pair you with?”

“It better not be bloody Malfoy. If it is, I’ll be having words with Kingsley and his panel of experts!” shouts Ron.

“Now, I’m sure it can’t be that bad dear. They wouldn’t dare pair you with someone unscrupulous, now would they?”

“They did. Mrs. Weasley. I- I’ll understand if none of you want to attend the wedding, given the things he’s done. I- they paired me with a Death Eater. They paired me with a Death Eater who tried to kill me, twice.”

Hermione gives a bitter laugh from her place against the table leg. 

“At least he’ll get to see his handiwork on the wedding night.” She hiccups. 

The thought sends her off again, laughing high and clear like Bellatrix used to, and then she just stares blankly at the oak beams that hold up the ceiling of the Weasley kitchen.

“Hermione, dear. Which Death Eater did they pair you with?” asks Mrs. Weasley.

“Antonin fucking Dolohov.” She spits.


	3. The Response

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione responds to Antonin, and the Weasleys react to the news of the betrothal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any characters, J.K. Rowling does. Please don't sue me.

Mrs. Weasley gasps somewhere above her, but she can’t summon the will to move, it’s like all her bones have been vanished, or she’s been hit with a full body jelly legs jinx. 

“They’re going to make you marry that monster?” Molly shrieks. 

Hermione listens to Molly splutter with wordless rage, and snorts at the fact that Kingsley Shacklebolt will soon be receiving Molly Weasley’s fiercest howler. 

“They’re letting him rob the bloody cradle! It’s undignified and immoral, and I won’t stand for it!” She yells.

Mr. Weasley puts a hand on his wife’s shoulder to calm her down. Eventually, Molly settles back into her chair at the head of the table, and looks down at her. 

“If he hurts you, Hermione dear, I’ll make him wish he hadn’t. We will, of course, attend the wedding.”

Molly turns her attention to Ginny, a frown on her face. 

“Ginevra Weasley, you aren’t to go anywhere alone at Hermione’s wedding or reception. We’ve no idea who that man will invite.”

She drones out the rest of the conversation, too burnt out to do anything other than stroke the downy brown-gold feathers of Nadya’s breast. The bird is still preening her sun-bleached hair, being careful not to snag any curls. 

Hermione doesn’t have the strength to get up from the floor, but still she tries. Antonin’s letter of courtship is still clutched in her right hand, she picks up the bloodied rose and the beautiful cedar box when she manages to get upright. The trip to Ginny’s room is awful, it feels like her limbs are made of lead and her throat is rough and raw like sandpaper. 

She shoves open the door to Ginny’s room, and sets Antonin’s gifts down on the nightstand beside her cot. She’ll need to send a response back soon, but for now, she really needs a nap. Kicking off her shoes, Hermione slips underneath the colorful quilt. Nadya, flits off her shoulder and flies to the top of the dresser. There’s barely enough space to fit her, but still Antonin’s bird manages to squeeze between the ceiling and the top of the dresser. 

The shock and exhaustion of the morning have stolen all of her spoons and she does not have the mental capacity to devote to anything other than sleep. The last thing she sees before she slips off to sleep are Nadya’s molten gold eyes, watching her intently. 

\--------

She wakes with a start, drool still clinging to her pillow. The scene before her is chaotic, Nadya is screeching, her talons extended towards a yelling Ronald Weasley. 

“Nadya! Come here!” She shouts.

Antonin’s bird pivots towards her with a gracefulness that surprises her. She lands softly on Hermione’s pajama clad shoulder, her talons flecked with fresh blood. 

Ron is trying to stop the blood that is flowing from the deep scratch on his hand. She can hear the rest of the Weasley clan clambering up the stairs to find out what’s going on.

“Ron, why are you in here?” asks Hermione tiredly. 

Her other best friend glares at the bird perched on her shoulder. 

“I just wanted to read the letter that the Death Eater sent you, but the bloody bird attacked me before I could touch it. What is it with your pets and attacking me, huh?”

“I don’t know, Ronald. Perhaps they just have better manners than you do, and now you know not to read my mail without my permission.” she huffs, “You should go put some dittany on that. I do hope it won’t scar.”

Her best friend walks away grumbling, and as soon as he shuts the door behind him, he yells for Molly to fetch the dittany from the kitchen.

She strokes Nadya’s feathers, and transfers her gently to the bed beside Crookshanks. 

“You two get along! I’ve got a letter to write. What do I even say in response to a letter of intent, Crooks?”

Her familiar just meows and looks at her with unblinking yellow eyes. One hand scratches behind his ears, and Hermione laughs when he flops over. She stands and brushes her hands off on her flannel pants to remove the cat hair. 

Hermione opens the lid to the cedar box, and the fountain pen takes her breath away. She withdraws it and the ink bottle from the box, and places it on the desk beside Ginny’s spare parchment. Biting her lip, she sits down to write her future husband back.

_ Dear Antonin, _

_ Thank you for the fountain pen and the ink bottle. The cedar chest is beautiful as well. Nadya must have stopped along the way to hunt at some point though, as the white rose was covered in blood.  _

_ I will be truthful with you. I have no wish to marry you, and the very idea frightens me. Everyone here (Harry and I are staying with the Weasley’s) was outraged when I told them we were getting married, and I don’t blame them.  _

_ Mr. Weasley has informed me that Wizarding weddings are legally and magically binding, and so divorce is not an option. The Weasley’s have said that they intend to attend our wedding ceremony, so I hope that won’t cause problems on your end.  _

_ I am apprehensive about becoming your wife, seeing as though you have tried to kill me twice now. I should like to get to know you better before the wedding, perhaps we could schedule a time when I could come over for lunch?  _

_ Your betrothed, _

_ Hermione Jean Granger _

She lets out a shaky breath, and watches as two large teardrops fall onto the parchment. She blows gently on the dark blue ink, and then casts a drying charm. Hermione rolls up the letter and seals it with wax the color of fresh blood. She motions for Nadya, who hops onto the desk. She ties the parchment to the golden eagle’s leg with a spare bit of twine and opens the window for her to fly back to Antonin. The bird takes off with a screech, pushing off from the window sill to soar along invisible wind currents. 


	4. Exhaustion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets another letter from Antonin, and wants a break from trying to fix everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything. JKR does, please don't sue me.
> 
> I'm obsessed with this fic. I usually don't update stories this often, but I am on a roll today.

She goes down for lunch and then immediately holes herself back up in Ginny’s room. She digs her beaten and battered copy of Jane Austen’s  _ Pride and Prejudice  _ out of her beaded bag, and settles down on her cot to lose herself in a kinder world. 

She is startled out of her reading by a tapping on the window. Wiping the tears from her face with her sleeve, Hermione stands to open the window for Nadya. The golden eagle sweeps in, shaking out her feathers and scattering the loose leaves of parchment onto the floor. 

In the time that she has spent reading, Antonin Dolohov has read and written a response. 

_ Dear Hermione, _

_ I feel saddened by the fact that you fear me, and yet it is my own actions that have damned me. I shall endeavor to be a man that you find worthy, moy suzhenyy. For all the rest of my days, I shall not leave you wanting.  _

_ I am sorry for Nadya’s violent tendencies. She will never hurt you, so you needn’t fear her. Nevertheless, she is a temperamental bird, and has strong feelings about people who would hurt those she considers hers. She is the best post bird that I have ever encountered, even the Goblins cannot find birds who protect mail as fiercely as she does.  _

_ I found her during one of my recruiting missions in Russia. She was just a small chick at the time, and had fallen from the nest. I healed her up and raised her to carry my post. There were quite a few complaints of sore and bleeding fingers from my fellow Death Eaters. I also believe that Nadya is responsible for taking out Peter Selwyn’s left eye after he tried to look at a letter addressed to me from my older sister.  _

_ Lunch would be lovely, daragaya. Is next wednesday at one all right? Please let me know if there is anything that you would prefer to eat, and anything that you would prefer to avoid. Feel free to bring Potter along, if that would make you feel more comfortable. I highly doubt that Molly Prewett would let any of her children come within fifteen meters of me, let alone have lunch, otherwise I would say bring one of them along. _

_ Having them at the wedding will not be an issue, you deserve to have your family there to support you. All of those I considered family except for my sister are dead, so I will be the only one in attendance.  _

_ I know quite a bit about you, daragaya, but you do not know very much about me. I went to Durmstrang until I was fourteen, and then my mother and I immigrated to Britain, where I attended Hogwarts as a Ravenclaw. I attended school with the infamous Marauders, though thankfully I was no target of theirs. My best friends were Regulus Black and Rodolphus Lestrange, who were a year below and a year above me, respectively.  _

_ Roddie wasn’t all bad, and neither was Reggie, we were best mates, a lot like you, Potter, and the youngest Weasley boy. I miss them both a lot, daragaya. I wish they were here to see us be married, but they fell prey to the Dark Lord’s worthless promises just as I did, and they did not make it out alive. _

_ I’m sorry to burden you with an old man’s regrets, I didn’t mean to become so emotional. It’s likely the bloody Firewhisky. _

Her betrothed slips into Russian for another page and a half before signing his name at the very bottom of the last piece of parchment. She settles the ink laden parchments onto Ginny’s desk, and turns to the animals tussling around on the cot. 

“I’m going to head down to dinner if either of you want to come with me. I’ll leave the door open, if you want to come down later and beg me for scraps.” she says.

Crookshanks hops off the bed and nearly causes her to stumble as they head out the door. Her hand catches the door frame before she can fall, and she shouts after Crookshanks to be more careful.

Dinner passes slowly, the subject of her Ministry chosen spouse is a particular sore spot, but they gleefully discuss who the Ministry could have paired them with. It is a near certainty that Luna and Neville will be matched and that both will be overjoyed about it. None of them could imagine their former classmates being paired with anyone else. Ron, being Ron, decides to stick his foot in his mouth. 

“But how’re Luna and Neville gonna have kids, on account of the y’know, them not being born in the right bodies.” mumbles Ron, in the midst of chewing up a roast potato. 

“Ronald Bilius Weasley! Not only is that none of your business, but it is exceptionally rude to bring up such a thing at the dinner table!” shouts Molly.

Ginny smacks Ron lightly across the head, and says, “And don’t talk with your mouth full of food, you great lout!”

Her heartbeat speeds up at the reminder that the marriage law isn’t just about marriage- it’s also about having children. The lightheaded feeling from this morning returns, and she takes in deep breaths in a futile attempt to keep herself calm. It doesn’t work, the thought of having Antonin Dolohov’s children is deeply upsetting. Tears fill her eyes, and she stifles a sob as she abruptly stands from the kitchen table.

The wooden chair screeches across the tile, as she stands, and the noise causes Crookshanks to yowl and bolt in the direction of the living room, presumably to hide under the couch. 

Hermione runs up the stairs and reaches the safety of Ginny’s room, leaving the confused and pitying stares of the Weasley clan behind. All she wants to do is hide, to disappear from the Ministry and it’s horrible, bigoted ways, to find somewhere that she is safe and loved, where nothing bad can reach her. It is a childish dream, a fool’s errand. She is an adult, twenty years old and a survivor of war, but gods, she is exhausted.


	5. The Ministerial Commission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The official letters arrive, and Hermione has an insightful conversation with Percy Weasley on artificial insemination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does.
> 
> Elements of this fic are borrowed from Canimal's The Dark Mage's Captive on FF.Net with their knowlege and permission. Credit will be given in the end notes when those specific elements are used.

She lets a few tears trickle down onto her pillow, and then falls asleep to the sound of rain pattering against the glass of the bedroom window. Crookshanks is a furry mass of warmth behind her knees, his chin settled on her leg. 

\----

She wakes hours later to shouting and screaming and the sound of spell fire. Her vision is blurry from sleep, but war honed reflexes spark up and set her on edge. 

Crookshanks leaps from the bed after her, yowling and spitting at her heels for disturbing his sleep. She presses against the doorframe, before slipping quietly down the steps toward the kitchen, wand at the ready. She skips the creaking step, and scurries down as fast as her feet can carry her. 

What she sees, though, is not a skirmish, or a Death Eater attack, but Molly Weasley chasing around her children, screeching about the Ministry. 

Ginny very nearly trips over a fallen kitchen chair, before she spots Hermione. 

The younger girl rushes towards her, and tries to hide behind her. 

“Ginny, what the hell is going on?” asks Hermione. 

Her friend gives a laugh before replying. 

“You aren’t the only one that got paired with a former Death Eater, ‘Mione. Mum’s been trying to get my official letter from the Ministry to see who I’ve been paired with, because I won’t tell her. She’d have a bloody heart attack.”

Hermione turns to give Ginny a look, one eyebrow raised. She motions at the destruction that the two Weasley females have inflicted upon the kitchen. The only thing that appears unscathed is the family clock in the corner, most everything else is scorched and splintered and broken. 

Ginny just nods, and gives her a look. 

“Right, then. Mum. I’ll tell you who I’ve been paired with, if you’ll just promise to stay calm.”

Molly huffs, red in the face. Hermione watches as Molly’s hands smooth down her apron and her hair.

“Okay, Ginny dear. Who is the Death Eater they’ve paired you with?”

Ginny clears her throat and stares at the floor. 

“Draco Malfoy, Mum. I’ll be a bloody Malfoy.”

Ginny then breaks down sobbing, unable to stand the thought of being married to an ex Death Eater git. 

In order to give them some privacy, Hermione slips out the back door to see Percy on the steps smoking a muggle cigarette. She sits down beside him with a sigh, and they look out over the orchards together, watching cigarette smoke curl into the air in white-grey whisps. 

After a few moments, she speaks, “Who did you get paired with?”

Her companion sighs, and snubs out his cigarette on the stone of the porch. 

“They paired me with Daphne Greengrass. I’m not too upset about it, mind, but I do think it’ll be hard to make it work. We seem like such completely different people.” he says. 

All she can do is laugh, watching the wind swish around the red-gold leaves. 

“Tell me about it.”

They sit in silence for another few minutes, before Percy speaks again.

“Hermione. This may be rather awkward, but I just wanted to ask, as you’re the most knowledgeable person I know, who knows about Muggle things. Do- do Muggles have ways for people to conceive without, ahem, being intimate?”

She is confused, as first as to what he’s asking, but then it clicks. 

“Yes, Percy. They do, the most common procedure is where the person with the penis will enjaculate into a cup, and hand it to one of the Muggle healers, who will then clean it, and put it in a tube to insert into the partner’s uterus.”

Percy looks deeply uncomfortable, the tips of his ears bright red, and he stammers out a response. 

“Thank you, Hermione. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to telling my wife that I don’t want to be intimate with her, so we couldn’t conceive, and would both be thrown in prison.”

Shock fills her, she hadn’t known that Percy didn’t like girls, or well, he could also not like sex, but that was none of her business. 

“The rest of the family are down at the pub. Dad went to supervise, to make sure that nothing got out of hand.” grimaces Percy. 

Hermione hums in response, fiddling with the hem of her gold wool sweater where the yarn is fraying apart. 

“Harry got paired with Pansy Parkinson, and Ron got Hannah Abbott. George got Angie, thank merlin.”

There’s nothing else to say, so they sit again in silence, watching the leaves fall from the apple trees that ring the Quidditch pitch. Their impending nuptials hang like a dark cloud in the backs of their minds. 

After a while, she stands up to go inside and find her letter in the chaos of the kitchen. 

\-----

She finds it after repairing the chairs and setting them to rights. It lays on the kitchen table, unopened, a shimmering gold wax seals it shut on eggshell colored parchment. 

She opens it with shaking hands, not bothering to read any of the Ministry drivel that was likely reported in the Prophet article, she’ll read it later, once her stomach stops trying to consume itself in anxiety. 

_ Dear Miss Hermione Granger,  _

__ _ We are writing to inform you of your Ministerial chosen spouse. You must marry within six months of receiving this correspondence, and conceive a child with your spouse within two years of the date of your wedding. Your spouse has also received a nearly identical letter informing them of your name and residence so that they may write you as they see fit.  _

__ _ You, Miss Hermione Jean Granger, have been paired with Antonin Fyodor Dolohov to be bound in the holy sight of magic, until the time of your deaths. May your marriage be blessed and be fruitful so that our community may thrive once more.  _

_ Sincerely, _

_ The Ministerial Commission for Magical Marriage and Childbirth _

  
  


Settling the open letter back down, she sinks into the repaired kitchen chair and tries not to cry at the confirmation of her worst fears. 


	6. Meltdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has a meltdown, and the rest of the Weasley's are Concerned about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything. J.K. Rowling does.
> 
> Note: Hermione has an autistic meltdown due to emotional overload and engages in self injurous behavior (scratching and biting herself). If this is a trigger for you, please be aware that it is discussed in this chapter.
> 
> Also, I hope I did a good job of conveying the autistic traits that Hermione has, especially when she gets overwhelmed/distressed. As an autistic person myself, I really tried to flesh out that part of her characterization so I hope it fit well/nothing seemed too out of character.

She will be forced to marry Antonin Dolohov, to have his children. A bitter feeling wells up inside her at the thought, it overtakes her until she wants to scream and throw things and scratch her skin until it bleeds. The world was supposed to get better, it wasn’t supposed to turn out like this, it was supposed to get better. 

She is hyperventilating, unable to calm down, her chest heaving under the weight of the distress of the past nine years. A cry tears itself from her throat, her nails digging down into the mottled purple skin on her left forearm. The feeling of pain abates that of the emotional distress that her mind is overwhelmed with, and her nails come away coated in rust red blood. 

She lifts her wrist to her mouth, precious flesh and blood settling between pristine white teeth. She gnaws on it hard enough that her teeth will leave behind ugly purple bruises in a few hours, but it is stimulation to deal with the emotional distress, and so she does not care. 

Molly does care though, and comes bustling towards her screeching to stop hurting herself. Hermione removes her wrist from her mouth and snarls at Molly, shaking off the string of saliva that connects her wrist and mouth. 

She cannot form words, cannot articulate why this is important, why she needs to feel the stimulation, she cringes as Molly tries to touch her, and bolts up the stairs to the safety of Ginny’s room. 

The room where it is quiet, and there are no loud noises. Pulling the quilt off the bed, she casts the spell to make it heavy and safe, and slips it around her shoulders, shoving herself underneath the cot to fall asleep, exhausted. 

She wakes up sometime later, with dried tears on her face and her mouth full of the taste of copper and cotton balls. Crookshanks has managed to wedge his large form under the bed and is staring at her with unblinking yellow eyes.

“Hello Crooks. I’m fine, love, I promise. I just had a meltdown, nothing to worry about. It’s because my brain works differently than most people's, so sometimes, when overwhelming things happen, my brain short circuits and I try to do things that ease the pressure, like my weighted blanket, or chewing on my arm.” she says, breathlessly. 

Her loyal cat meows back, bobbing his head up and down, before swatting her on the nose with a warm paw. A laugh bubbles out of her, and she reaches out a hand to curl her fingers around his ear tuft. 

She lays in the soft silence of the space below the cot, and runs her fingers through her familiar’s fur, the motion repetitive and soothing, causing Crookshanks to rumble out purrs as though he’s got a tiny thunderstorm in his chest.

They lay like this, timeless and unburdened, finding a small pocket of peace in the aftermath of war and bloodshed. Hermione’s eyes slip closed as she feels the floor sway beneath her back, her awareness floating away in a dark sea of waves.

\------

The days pass away in a blur, the only time she is around the Weasley’s and Harry is at mealtimes, even then she doesn’t talk. She keeps her mouth closed, despite their attempts to get her to talk. The rest of the time, she walks barefoot through the orchard, Crookshanks and Nadya being her only wanted companions. Harry trails after her sometimes, just to make sure that nothing happens, to make sure she isn’t ambushed. After a while though, he slips away quietly through the trees to go spend time with Ron and Ginny. The glade is peaceful, the October winds swirling around her hinting at the coming winter, stirring the leaves into a kaleidoscope of orange-yellow-red, shining flame bright against the blue background of the sky. 

Crookshanks brushes up against her ankle, drawing her attention away from the leaves down to him. He looks up at her, his pupils as thin as a knife’s edge, and meows. She watches him in silent amusement, as he trots over to where Nadya is perched on the exposed root of the largest apple tree in the orchard, his tail is twitching behind him like a banner fluttering in the wind. 

Laughing, she walks over to join them, relishing in the way that her toes dig into the soft new growth of the grass and the damp soil, smudging the soles of her feet brown. 

She’ll likely have grass stains on her clothing, but that doesn’t matter, not now, not now that she has magic and everything is mostly okay. She settles down against the trunk, drawing her knees up to her chest, and tilts her head to examine the ring of teeth shaped purple bruises that ring her left wrist. 

They are an unsightly collection, the bruises, the healing scratch marks, and the slur that had been carved into her arm by a mad woman. Molly had tried to wrangle her into putting dittany on them, but Hermione had refused. Normally she could put up with the sensation of grimy oil on her skin, but not right now, not after her meltdown, when she felt like all her nerves had been struck by lightning. Unpleasant sensations and stimuli would likely just cause her to have another meltdown, and it wouldn’t do to be non verbal during her lunch at Antonin’s cottage in Dorset. 

They would likely communicate just fine, but Harry would probably kick up a fuss in the intent to be well meaning and encourage her to talk when she didn’t want to. Letting out a sigh, she flops against the ground and rolls onto her back to look at the clouds passing by overhead. There was really nothing that she could do but wake up on Tuesday and see how she felt. At worst, they could always correspond through Nadya or reschedule the lunch date. Harry would be disappointed, but that would just be because then he wouldn’t have an excuse not to respond to Pansy Parkinson’s letter.


End file.
